Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Brunei and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Rahsaan Roland Kirk to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Grass Roots. All the underground hits.
All Anthony Braxton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Frankie Knuckles record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fugs,
Fat Boys,
Dennis Brown,
Reuben Wilson,
The Dirtbombs,
Lindisfarne,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Human League,
Mandrill,
Stiv Bators,
The Slackers,
Don Cherry,
La Düsseldorf,
Slave,
Juan Atkins,
Janne Schatter,
Jawbox,
The Blues Magoos,
Sugar Minott,
Michelle Simonal,
Das Ding,
Eurythmics,
The Misunderstood,
Todd Rundgren,
The Selecter,
Faraquet,
The Flesh Eaters,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Laurel Aitken,
UT,
Piero Umiliani,
ABC,
Lee Hazlewood,
Camberwell Now,
Symarip,
Marmalade,
The Invisible,
Inner City,
Rod Modell,
a-ha,
Smog,
Au Pairs,
Metal Thangz,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
the Soft Cell,
Whodini,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Maurizio,
Gregory Isaacs,
One Last Wish,
Moebius,
The Fire Engines,
Silicon Teens,
Donald Byrd,
The Zeros,
Jeff Mills,
Nico,
Average White Band,
Sex Pistols,
Trumans Water,
Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.